Gold Standard
by drif
Summary: Apparently, being a normal trainer is too much to ask for. Even in Johto, trouble is STILL able to seek me out. Sketchy trainers, freak cults, vicious wild Pokémon— I should have just stayed in school...
1. Trapped in My Own Resolve

I knew I wanted to be a pokemon trainer ever since I was a little kid. But I didn't want to become just _any_ trainer. I wanted to be the champion.

And to be the champion, I needed an amazing pokemon to start with– one that could be really strong, and would be easy enough to train. I often talked to my parents about how awesome this pokemon would be, and they smiled whenever I started to motorboat about it. "What kind of pokemon is it going to be, Theo?" they always asked. I gave them the same shrug every time. I didn't know.

My father ended up getting a job at one of the most prominent media conglomerates in all of Johto. Often, he would bring home various tapes and videos of League battles, trainer interviews– anything and everything like that. Supposedly, this was supposed to help me narrow down what pokemon I wanted for my tenth birthday. The big day was approaching quickly.

These videos, however, ended up turning my enthusiasm for training into an obsession. With my craze and a computer's worth of pokemon training footage that my dad had stockpiled, my free time became an amalgamation of video binging and late nights. Once I started, I couldn't stop.

There were a few clips in particular that really caught my eye. The first was an old champion's involvement with the whole Team Rocket fiasco in Mahogany Town. His dragonite was unstoppable. Not even a concrete wall could stop a Fire Punch from that beast. I wanted a strong pokemon like that.

Next, of course, was the interview with the man with the funny bowtie and Suicune. The man seemed to have an infinite zeal when it came to this pokemon. He spoke with a passion about the legendary he had befriended. Suicune was his friend, and it was obvious that their bond was unshakable. I wanted to have a relationship with a pokemon like that one day.

But what ended up impacting me the most were the countless tapes of the new champion, Gold, and his championship battles. His typhlosion hit like a truck. His togekiss moved with such grace. His sudowoodo could withstand any attack. He truly lived up to his name. He really was the gold standard of what a trainer should be.

Which is exactly what I decided _I_ was going to be. Once I became the champion, at least. And after I started my journey, of course. And decided on what pokemon I wanted. The latter took the most priority. I needed to make a list of potential candidates, and fast. My tenth birthday was only a month away.

Thoughts of that starter pokemon started to take over my everyday thoughts. On my walks to school through the streets of Goldenrod, I took mental notes of all the pokemon that I encountered along the way. I concluded that I didn't want any pokemon that were of the grass, water, normal, rock, or ground type. They were all too boring, and a lot of them were messy; I had to walk behind an omastar one day, and it was an ordeal to avoid all of the slime that it left on the sidewalk.

Bug and flying types were also later ruled out. They were gross. Flying types were a little cooler, but I doubted I could get one that wasn't a dirty bird while also being easy to train. My parents weren't dumb. There was no way that they would set a kid like me off by myself with a skarmory.

I narrowed down my typing list to fire, electric, and ice. Those were the cooler ones, I deduced. As that idea of the "cool" starter pokemon started to cement in my head, I would find myself daydreaming more often.

In math, I would lose myself in thinking about battling alongside a growlithe, or fighting my best friend with a charmander. During english, I would shiver at the mere thought of adventuring with a sneasel. At recess, I would pretend I had the speed and zeal of a pikachu or an electabuzz, running around as fast as my legs could carry me in the small lot behind my school.

I would scrawl each pokemon that I thought of onto a scrap piece of paper that I kept in my pocket. I couldn't risk forgetting the perfect species. Then, at night, I would research all that I could about those pokemon, listing all the pros (and cons) of the evolutionary line. It was a fool-proof plan to figure the _perfect_ pokemon I needed to have the best shot at becoming the champion.

The plan worked well until I got to the research phase. I quickly learned that for every strength that a pokemon seemed to have, it would have equal, or possibly more weaknesses. Growlithe, for example, were very loyal, but they usually took a while to gain strength, _and_ they required some weird stone to evolve. Charmander turned into charizard, sure, but they were disobedient and dangerous. Sneasel were strong, but they could go down in one hit.

It seemed that every pokemon that I thought was cool didn't live up to the expectations that I wanted them to fit.

When it was a week away from my birthday, I started to freak out. What if I didn't get a pokemon in time? What if I didn't start my journey when my friends did? If I got a late start? That would mean I wouldn't have enough time to train! I'd lose out on precious time with my future team, and grow old before I would ever even _think_ of stepping near Victory Road!

My birthday came and went. I didn't get a pokemon– I hadn't decided on one. My parents had even tried to help me pick one, but I shot down almost every one that they offered. My starter needed to be _perfect_ , and darn, was it going to be.

I got a trip to Hoenn instead. It was a business trip for my dad, but his company would let me tag along, and I could even bring a friend. It was next summer, which was pretty far off, but it sounded cool, and I was gracious that I got at least _something_ for my birthday.

"If you don't settle on a pokemon between now and then, maybe you'll find a pokemon in Hoenn that you'll like, sport," my dad suggested, somewhat encouragingly.

"Yeah, maybe."

Something told me I wasn't going to get a pokemon any time soon.


	2. Surf and Turf

Hoenn was great, and Slateport beach was even better. The weather was excellent, the food was delicious, and I got to spend all my time searching for interesting pokemon. This region was completely new to me, and I was unfamiliar with many of the species.

I brought my best friend, Caleb, along with me. I had brought up the trip to him when it was first mentioned to me, and he promised that he'd take time off of his own journey to come hang out with me. A welcome vacation, as he put it.

My dad was off to meetings by around noon each day with coworkers and some Steven fellow, so this left Caleb and I time alone to formulate our master plan to find and catch my starter pokemon. I laid out the requirements. "It needs to be cool."

Caleb cocked his head. "Just… cool? Like, nothing else? Just, _cool_?"

I gave a simple nod.

"Jesus, if that's all you wanted, we coulda sorted all of this out together before," he muttered. He shook his head. "Alright, let's get to it!"

We discussed our options over frozen lemonades. "I saw some horsea out in the water earlier, how does that sound?" he said as I took a huge slurp of my drink.

"Oo eek." I swallowed. "To weak. I need at least _something_ to work with."

"Okay then. We should probably steer clear from the carvanha then. They're dangerous, on top of being weak." I nodded in agreement. "How about a tentacool?" I shook my head. "Omast–"

"No," I said, maybe a bit more forceful than I meant it to be. Caleb didn't look too amused at being shot down every time. "How about we go out and search ourselves?" I suggested, offering him a pitiful smile.

He shrugged. "Works with me."

Zendon, Caleb's growlithe, was a vital part of our scheme. He would be the one to weaken the pokemon. Although he had a disadvantage to all the water pokemon at the beach, he was strong enough from Caleb's travels that he would manage battling them fine.

There was, however, another crucial ingredient that I remembered only until after I had a staryu pinned to the ground under my knee: I needed pokeballs to catch pokemon.

Caleb ran to the nearest surf shop while I tried to warm up underneath the sun from the ice-cold salt water that the staryu had blasted into my face. He soon returned with a handful of pokeballs, and as I reached for them, he slapped my hand away. "What was that for!" I yelped.

"We need an actual plan, Theo. I think it's pretty obvious that you can't run around and hope that a wild pokemon will run into you."

What had I expected? I guess catching pokemon was a lot different, and harder, than I thought it was going to be. "Maybe if we kept at it for a little longer…"

He raised his eyebrows, "No, I'm pretty sure I'm right," he said, simply. "Let's make a plan."

He _was_ right. Darn you Caleb, and your logic. It seemed like my ambition wasn't doing it for him. I really didn't want to spend my day soaked from the water gun of different aquatic pokemon anyway. "Fine." I sighed.

We sat in the sand for a bit and let our brilliant, ten-almost-eleven-year-old minds work up a storm of a plan before Caleb finally broke the silence. "Alright," he began, clapping his hands together. "We can start off by ruling a few more pokemon out. First the wingull, since they're too fast, and they can fly" I nodded in agreement. "Second, most things in the water should be ruled out."

"Why's that?"

"They can swim faster than we can. Plus, I don't think Zendon wants to go swimming anytime soon." I glanced over at the growlithe, who was running from the incoming waves.

"So…"

"We really don't have too many options, I've got to admit," he stated bluntly.

I didn't want to hear that. "Maybe we should give up… think about options back at home."

Caleb snorted. "No, come on, Theo."

"Why not? It's obvious that what I want isn't here."

Caleb's already serious demeanor warped into a more tired face. "Darn, Theo, just _think_ for a second! We're in a different region, surrounded by pokemon that most Johtonians would _kill_ to get their hands on. And you're _still_ picky?" He leaned in. "Now's the time, darn it! Suck it up, and go catch yourself a pokemon."

I looked at him in silence, completely stunned. I didn't know he had such strong feelings about all of this.

"Listen, dude," he started. "I'll be back at the concessions if you need me. Go try and catch something. I'll leave Zendon if you need him." With that, he shook his head and walked away from the surf.

I turned to Zendon. "Well I guess it's just you and me, bud." Zendon barked.

-o-o-o-

I walked along the shore in complete silence for some time. I had returned Zendon to his pokeball and shoved it in my pocket, along with the other pokeballs Caleb had given me. The constant sound of crashing waves gave me some peace of mind. I guess krabby could be pretty cool. Maybe a slowpoke? Poliwag?

"Aargh!" I kicked some sand in frustration, getting a few odd looks from fellow beachgoers. So much for serenity. Water lapped up against my feet as I laid down in the sand, eyes closed. I was done with this whole training thing. Maybe I'd end up working some dumb job like my dad for the rest of my life. At least I wouldn't be so indecisive then.

I laid there in silence for quite some time, not caring about any of the strange looks I was probably getting from other people. But soon, I could feel the sun start to burn my face, and then reluctantly decided that it was time to get up. My little tantrum was over. I opened my eyes. "Ah!"

"Rill?" The blue pokemon that was sunbathing right next to me backed up in surprise. A marill? I had learned about these pokemon from my research. In fact, I considered them some of the best contenders for being my starter!

"Don't move," I whispered, reaching for a pokeball.

The marill glanced down at my pocket, realizing what I was doing. "Mar! Marill!" it shrieked.

"Come back here, you!" I got up from the sand as fast I could and dodged towels and umbrellas as I chased the pokemon to where ever it was headed. I was going to catch this thing, and it _was_ going to be my partner.

Turns out, marill are pretty slippery. My face hit the ground, and with a mouth full of sand, I caught a glimpse of the blue mouse scurry into the water. I knew that I didn't have many options, so I threw one of the pokeballs blindly into the waves.

I watched one of the greatest mistakes I had ever made unfold in what felt like slow motion. Out of the ball, _which was heading into the water_ , popped Zendon. I grimaced, and turned to see if anyone had seen my mistake. I was greeted with a shove to the ground, and a friendly "you idiot!" from Caleb.

Poor Zendon was trying to doggy paddle to keep himself above the waves, but every wave was pulling the growlithe farther and farther out to sea. Luckily, Caleb was able to make it to Zendon in record time, but his focus was on Zendon, and _not_ on the monster of a wave forming behind them.

Caleb had control of Zendon's pokeball and had returned him, but his efforts to return to the shore were futile due to the pull of the "big one". _Oh god,_ I thought, eyes glued to the ocean. I looked at one of the (alleged) empty pokeballs in my hand. I figured that it could float, since it must have at least _some_ air inside of it.

"Caleb! Catch!" My friend was sucked halfway up the wave by then, so he had only a split second to react to the projectile… which promptly hit him in the head and fell into the water below.

-o-o-o-

"Alright, alright. I have to admit that _was_ pretty awesome." Caleb smiled, avoiding eye contact with me. Of course, I didn't get to dodge the consequences. Caleb put me to work wringing out all of his wet clothes.

I laughed. "Yeah, I thought you were done for when I saw you get sucked up the wave." I dropped Caleb's damp shirt in the sand while we both broke out into a laughing fit. Zendon shook off more saltwater and barked in amusement.

Gasping for air, Caleb pulled something out from behind his back. "And I think this is yours, Theo."

"Hm?" I questioned as I shook out the now sand-covered shirt.

"The second pokeball. It hit a pokemon after it smashed into my head." My heart skipped a beat. "Yeah, I think you caught something," he continued, contently eyeing the pokeball for any possible damage.

My heart practically wasn't beating by now. I guess I _did_ capture the marill. I took the pokeball from Caleb and tossed it onto the ground. The ball burst open and I took a few seconds to admire my new marill.

Except it wasn't a marill.

It was white. And a bird.

It was a wingull.


	3. Round Trip from Square One

Not only was I in partial disbelief about my ownership of a pokemon, but so were my parents. And Caleb. Apparently, they had been worrying about me since my tenth birthday, the day I didn't get a starter. I could tell my parents were relieved– no longer did I receive any awkward looks or questions about how I was feeling. Looking back, I really should have realized how they felt, but I guess I was too far gone in my own emotions that I didn't even notice.

Caleb had to get back to training as soon as we arrived back in Johto. At least, that's what he said. He earned his fourth badge just before our trip, and he and his team needed to keep their "momentum" or something. Caleb crashed at my place the night we got back, and told us he was headed for Cianwood as he walked out the door the next morning.

I named my wingull "Epitome". Well, my parents suggested the word, but _I_ gave the name. Pit (which was what I decided to shorten the name to) was the summation of my indecision and toils regarding a possible starter pokemon, so my parents only thought the name was fitting. They also thought I should leave for my journey as soon as humanly possible. I thought so too.

I didn't really know how I felt with starting out with a wingull. On one hand, they were foreign. That was awesome. I could safely say that barely any new trainers in Johto started with them, and that made me different than everybody else. It made me and my (very small) team special, which something that I happily embraced.

On the other hand, wingull weren't the most uncommon pokemon. It was comparable to starting out with a rattata or a hoothoot in Johto, so I was now tasked with having to make a totally unremarkable pokemon awesome and amazing.

Somehow.

In the days following Caleb's departure, I packed and prepared for my journey non-stop. At the time of my own departure, I could have sworn I knew the most about backpack straps and foot care more than any other eleven year-old. And with all the practicalities well-researched, all that was left was to learn about my own pokemon… and learn I did. Not only about the battle characteristics of my pokemon, but also his more "personal" qualities.

Pit was a quirky one. For starters, he refused to spend much time in his pokeball. At all. Instead, Pit found great pleasure perching on my shoulder, burying his talons into my hoodie, or jacket, or whatever I was wearing at the time. Turns out, this was a blessing in disguise. My clothes were _not_ fit for training, so I reluctantly spent a decent chunk of my money on some better, more waterproof, clothing. I also ended up jerry-rigging a shoulder pad out of my torn-up gear so my new clothes weren't destroyed. Oh, the wonders of duct tape.

We found ourselves eating a lot of freeze-dried food on the trail. It wasn't great, but it certainly kept us full. Pit came in handy with meal-prep since him being a water pokemon meant instant water. And yes, I boiled it first. My standards weren't _that_ low… but it was still something I swore I would never tell anyone.

Pit, by far, had the shortest attention span of any pokemon I had ever met. In just a few milliseconds, he could go from peacefully sitting on my shoulder to squawking bloody murder as he incessantly flapped his wings and squirmed even at the sight of the smallest weedle.

Sometimes, Pit would start to get so jittery and anxious that I would have to return him to his pokeball. This didn't necessarily seem to calm his nerves, (he would usually squawk at me in anger when I let him back out) but it certainly let me get some peace and quiet… and avoid those strange looks from other trainers.

As the days flew by, and Pit and I had some more wild battles under our belt, one detail started to become strikingly obvious. Pit wasn't just nervous around _certain,_ _wild_ pokemon, he was anxious around _all_ pokemon. Sure, he could still knock out most of the wild pokemon in the area, but no matter how strong he was, he would always assume an awkwardly tense battle stance and fly at a safe distance from the opposing pokemon.

But I decided it was just a phase that Pit would grow out of. All he needed was to get used to other pokemon, right? Simple.

Boy, was I wrong.

-o-o-o-

Pit and I had just finished our lunch when an older trainer came up and tapped me on the shoulder. Pit squawked, alarmed. Even I jumped a bit. "Oh. Do you need something?"

The boy rubbed his elbow awkwardly, smiling. "Yeah, do you have any spare cash on you? I kinda need to buy some–"

"I'm sorry," I interrupted. "I just spent most of it on some new clothes, and I need the rest for some–"

The trainer smiled again, but this time it had a little more of an evil tint. "Oh, that's a shame. Then how about a battle?. Can't say no to a challenge, eh?" he poked.

I hadn't been expecting to see very many trainers today, let alone battle one. Maybe this could be a good opportunity to expose Pit to some more pokemon. "Uh, sure?" The trainer's audacity was a little bit unsettling. Usually, trainer battles were started with a little small talk, not a spur of the moment tap on the shoulder. And why did he want a battle when he wanted cash?

"Aight, cool. Let's go, Rovo." With that said, what I recognized as a nidorino popped out of the trainer's pokeball.

"W-wait, I haven't even prepared my pokemon yet!"

"Too late, battle's started," the boy said, this time with less humor in his voice.

"Alright… Pit, Water Gun." I laid a weak finger towards the other team, which apparently wasn't commanding enough for Pit to actually move. The wingull looked up at me. I nudged my head towards the nidorino.

The other trainer chuckled. "What? Your pokemon doesn't listen to you?"

"He does! He's just a little bit nervous, that's all." Pit flew up onto my shoulder and buried his head in my hood. "Come _on_ , go!" I whispered harshly. The wingull fluttered back down to my ankles, shaking.

The other trainer rolled his eyes. "Tackle."

The nidorino gave a grunt and started barreling towards me and Pit. I gave a little shout, and jumped out of the way, but Pit wasn't so quick to act. The nidorino smashed into Pit, sending my pokemon careening towards a tree. "Pit!"

"And it won't even move! What kinda trainer _are_ you?"

I clenched my fists. "Pit, come _on_! Water Gun! The bushes underneath the tree rustled a bit, and then out crawled my wingull. Going against my expectations, he actually took flight, and even managed to spit out a decent stream of water at his opponent.

"Dodge it, Rovo." The nidorino side-stepped, avoiding all but the splashes as the stream hit the grass beside it.

Oh.

"Man, all I wanted was a couple of bucks, not to see a newbie trainer fail to land a hit against Rovo. I'm even starting to feel bad!"

"I'm not a newbie! I started training two weeks ago!"

At this point, the boy was practically quaking with laughter. "Alright, you've _got_ to be kidding me, right? There's no way you actually think you're not a new trainer." He paused, another bout of laughter taking him over. "Let's just end this," he said with a shake of his head. "Rovo, Shock Wave."

My stomach lurched, and all the air was shot out my chest like I had just been punched in the gut. Shock Wave? It didn't take too much brain power to realize that the move was _electric_ typed. That was bad news for Pit, who had a super double weakness to it. "Dodge?" I squeaked with the ounce of air I still had in my lungs.

The bolt hit Pit straight on. It was a one-way ticket to the ground.

I was too in-shock to realize that the trainer had not only returned his own pokemon, but walked all the way up to where I was gawking at Pit. "Cash?"

"I don't owe you anything!" I huffed, fumbling around in my pocket for Pit's pokeball.

"I know you're a newbie and all, but do you really not know that it's customary for the losing trainer to hand over a decent chunk of their money?"

It felt like I had just ran into a brick wall with that revelation. Of course I knew that! How did I forget? "Y-yeah, sure," I stammered, handing him a fist-full of bills. "Take your money."

"Thanks, kid." He started to walk back the way he came, but stopped dead in his tracks for a moment. "Maybe if you had just given me some money, you'd have lost less of it. And maybe not have to make a stop at a pokecenter." I glared at him. "What? Just a thought." He shrugged.

And just like that, he left, and I was stuck with a fainted wingull. Sure, the other trainer was probably going to win anyway, but I couldn't help but look at Pit with disdain. If only he had actually listened to me, my pride wouldn't be so shattered. Plus, the other guy tricked me! I honestly forgot that I had to pay the victor, and he couldn't have let _me_ , the new trainer, off just a _little_ bit easier?

As I returned Pit to his pokeball, something became abundantly clear to me. I needed to catch another team member, and one that _wasn't_ afraid of other pokemon. The problem was, I had no idea where to start.


End file.
